


Hopeless Wanderer: A Verdant Astra Backstory Theory

by maplemooh



Category: Life of the Party (Web Series)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Life of the Party backstory theory, Short One Shot, backstory theory, life of the party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 15:28:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20695808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maplemooh/pseuds/maplemooh
Summary: How Astra went from living with his family to the hopeless wanderer that met Renard, and the other members of the Life of the Party crew





	Hopeless Wanderer: A Verdant Astra Backstory Theory

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and thanks for reading!
> 
> This is my take on Astra's backstory from Life of the Party.
> 
> This was written between episodes 4 and 5, and edited and posted just after episode 6.
> 
> Please enjoy!

It was a beautiful day to Verdant Astra.

Early morning rays of sunlight poured into the attic bedroom, illuminating his face. He stretched leisurely as his eyes adjusted to the light; his siblings were rousing as well. 

The three of them shared similar features; everyone in the village knew them for their beautiful hair and skin tone. Astra often compared the colour of their eyes to the evening sky, when yellow, orange and red painted the horizon while the sun died each day. They all shared the same smattering of freckles across their noses, and a mouth with small fangs. They all had dark horns sprouting from their foreheads.

He was the eldest of three children; he’d seen others his age decide to leave this small village to try and make their way in this world. Astra hadn’t felt that pull. Not yet. He was happy here, content in this place where tieflings and their families lived very peacefully. 

He sat up, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his cheeks and running his hands through his mass of emerald-green hair. If there was one thing Astra was vain about, it was his hair. He used his fingers to roughly brush out any tangles, as he twirled it easily in on itself, lifting it up off the nape of his neck, as he rose to rouse his siblings.

Often his parents would laugh about how he and Ammil were like flipped copies of each other. While they both sported the same delicate seafoam skin and vibrant emerald hair, they had opposite personalities to each other. His mother joked that Astra’s horns, which turned upwards, kept his head in the clouds, while Ammil’s curled under horns kept him grounded. Ammil was the yin to Astra’s yang - the boys worked well together, balancing each other out.

It wasn’t always easy, though. He and Ammil often disagreed on things. Sometimes they would sway each other one way or another, but often they were left to be in disagreement. Astra found Ammil to be too wary, too guarded around strangers and friends alike; whereas Ammil thought Astra was sometimes foolish for always believing the good in others.

His younger sister Lunette, however, was perhaps the most playful creature Astra had ever encountered. Quick to smile, and with a joke forever on her tongue, Lunette was the embodiment of how much one could love being alive. Every day she woke with a newfound sense of wonderment about the world, and seemed to lap up every discovery she could make. She had a small gap between her front teeth, and was the youngest of the Verdant set of children. 

Astra loved them both dearly.

He shook Ammil’s shoulder gently; the younger man growled at him and pulled the covers over his head. An amused smile played on his face as Astra moved on to Lunette, who sat up and rubbed her eyes before crawling out of bed and yawning a great yawn. She turned her back to Astra, as her older brother grabbed a brush on the nearby night table, and started combing it through her lush hair.

He plaited the top, between her horns - he wondered if they’d curl up like his or down like Ammil’s - then plaited up both sides, bringing them together in the middle and twirling it into a chignon knot at the base of her neck. 

His efforts rewarded him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before she leapt out of bed, running off to dress for the day and greet their parents. 

Astra turned his attention back to Ammil, who was grumbling under his blanket; the younger tiefling was greeted with Astra’s toothy grin as the coverings were ripped from him. Ammil kept his hair shorter; Astra pulled it half back and secured it in a braid.

After Ammil was off, Astra quickly plaited his own hair, pulled on his trousers, a shirt and his belt, splashed his face with water, and made his way down from their large attic bedroom to the main living space of their small home.

Mother had breakfast ready; the table was a cacophony of eating, passing food, and plans for the day. Astra took it all in. He enjoyed this time of day, with the bustle of the morning before he and his siblings went out for morning chores: feeding their various animals, collecting any vegetables that were ready to harvest, chasing chickens out of the gardens, and picking up eggs.

After their small farm was taken care of, the children gathered up what they needed to go into town for. They fetched their instruments, as they would most likely sit and play in the town square for a while. Mostly they did this out of enjoyment, and the few coins they got from it wasn’t unwelcome. Astra would normally get some fresh bread for the night’s dinner.

The group of Verdant children kissed their parents goodbye, then started the walk towards town. It was a walk Astra had always enjoyed, through the forest path, with the sun mottling through the leaves as they blew in the wind. The peaceful noises of the forest: branches rustling, birds swinging, and the crunch of the ground beneath their shoes.

Lunette ran ahead of the boys, twirling in a patch of sunlight in her dress and cinch, her pan flute at her side. Astra unslung his lute, plucking at the strings as they walked; Amill softly sang the melody as Lunette danced along the pathway. 

This would be how Astra strived to remember his family: his two parents, happily at home, and dancing down the forest path into town with his siblings.

The marketplace was just starting to buzz as they arrived and set up; greeting neighbours and friends as they did so. Their town was not terribly large, but did have a square with a fountain, a few places of worship, a hall, a tavern and a few supply shops. Every now and then a group of adventurers would wander through, and tell their great tales of daring adventure. It brought good stories, sometimes new songs, and good coin to be had.

Their town consisted of quite a number of tiefling families, some full-blood and some half-blood; many humans and elves as well, and a smattering of halflings, gnomes and dwarves. This is what Astra loved, especially in a world that he had heard could be so cruel to those who looked like him. He didn’t completely understand the stories of why someone could be untrustworthy based on their looks.

Astra didn’t understand a lot of the things that he heard about in the world outside his town.

He never let those thoughts trouble him. His life here was happy. His parents, while hardworking and often low on coin, were happy. They’d taught him and his siblings how to sing and play. Astra in particular was quite musical, and in his nineteen or so moons he had mastered the lute, drums, kalimba, and pan flute.

Ammil was maybe four moons younger than Astra, and Lunette even more so: she was a late child for his mother, and somewhat unexpected. While Ammil wasn’t terribly impressed with having yet another sibling to contend with, Astra had marveled once again in the creation of life. 

If an eye was blinked at Astra assisting the midwives while his mother birthed his sister, the family didn’t notice. It just seemed natural for Astra to be there, still a young lad then, rushing around getting towels, getting his mother water, then singing and playing for her to relax her as the birth happened.

There was no face happier than Astra’s when he got to hold Lunette for the first time.

And now the gap-toothed child was almost thirteen moons herself, playing in the town square with the other younger children, while Astra traded and bartered with villagers and other vendors, getting supplies for the family that they couldn’t make or grow themselves.

It had been a productive day, so Astra had more than enough to buy some bread and cheeses for their lunch; the trio sat and ate quietly, just enjoying the peace. There was enough to wrap up for later; Astra knew his father would relish it as it was tucked into one of the small bags on his belt.

As the afternoon was beginning, and the chores were completed in town, the three siblings sat by the fountain, pulling out their instruments of choice. Astra had his lute - a gift passed down from his father. Ammil had a kalimba, intricately carved, and Lunette had the flute - the one borrowed from their mother.

They played together every day, singing the songs: the ones that their father loved, the ones their mother loved, and the ones they learned from friends or passers-by. People would make requests of them, other market stall vendors calling out to them, and it was always happily answered with song. A small coin purse was always put out nearby, and today was a good day - it would jingle heavily on the walk home. 

They were perhaps into the fifth song of the day, when they heard a yell. At first, Astra didn’t pay attention, none of them did. Then another yell. And another. Lunette faltered at her playing, turning to look at Astra briefly. His head was up, and he was looking though still plucking at his lute. Ammil was looking as well, the tempo of the music slowing together as their attention turned towards the faint sounds of metal on metal.

The bell began to clang.

The mood in the air changed very quickly. The bell was used very seldom pulled, and only when there was danger. Normally it was because a large animal was too close to town. 

This didn’t sound like an animal.

The yelling was being joined by more voices. Screams were joining in with the yells. Metallic clanging noises were starting, and the acrid scent of wood burning reached Astra’s nose. This was different. This was bad. They had adventurers in town but...there were so many voices.

Ammil and Lunette had stopped playing. They gathered close to Astra; he twisted his lute on to his back, grabbed the coin purse and shoved it in a bag, and reached for their hands. Someone yelled at them to get inside somewhere. Astra pulled on their hands and they were moving, running through the cobbled streets towards the tavern. The keeper was at the door, ushering people in.

The server ushered them into the store room, where there were already many other villagers who had been outside. Astra recognized their friends and neighbours: there were scared, nervous embraces, unsure laughs, frightening smiles. Astra wrapped his arms around Lunette, who was curled into him. He could feel her tremble, her fear running through her body. He turned to Ammil; the younger tiefling boy looked steely, as if he was planning something.

Everyone in the room looked at the door as the noises started to get closer. They heard a great crash, and a yell; the barkeeper’s voice. There was more yelling, guttural and raw, and another crash, and loud thumps. The server opened the door and slipped in, locking the door after her. Astra’s heart pounded as she turned. 

He knew this woman; he’d come in the tavern before, though he had never partook in the beverages they sold, he often traded with her in the market square. He’d trade vegetables for the soups, or eggs for the breakfasts they sold; sometimes fruits for their wines. She was a beautiful, kind woman. She was drenched in blood: big, sticky wafts of red liquid on her face and slicking back her hair. Her eyes were shocked open, and she moved stiffly towards a latch on the floor. Everyone shuffled out of the way.

She pulled it open, revealing a tunnel. She looked at Astra, clutching Lunette in his arms, “Go. Go home. Run.”

Astra was frozen, looking at her eyes. They were wide, the blue of the irises larger than they should be and her pupils were pinpricks in them. Fear, pure and raw, run up and down his spine.

The whole room started as there was a pound on the door.

“GO!” The serving woman screamed.

Astra didn’t need another prod. He ushered Ammil in the cellar tunnel, then put Lunette in, then started getting the others out first. The pounding continued on the door; he could hear the wood splintering. When the last person was through, Astra looked to the serving girl, who was slumping against the trap door.

He thought the blood was surface; it was someone else’s on her. While he’d been right, he didn’t notice that her side was wet with dark red. She was bleeding, dying in front of him, and there was nothing he could do. He could hear the gurgle in her breath as he slid into the tunnel, her closing it on top of him. He heard her thump down on the floor as he started out the rough-hewn tunnel, and tried to push the sounds of a breathy scream as the door broke and the room was invaded.

He followed the line of villagers inside the tunnel; he couldn’t make out Ammil or Lunette in the front and his heart was in his throat. What if they couldn’t handle what was on the other end? Where did this tunnel even lead to?

His head pounded with his own heartbeat and his stomach twisted in knots. Who was doing this? Why were they doing this? Why did they have to kill a perfectly innocent barmaid? What did she have that they could want?

It just didn’t make any sense at all.

After crawling for what seemed like an eternity, Astra was thankful to breathe fresh air again after crawling through the tunnel. The air was dank with earth, stale and unmoving. But as they neared cellar doors, they caught the scent of fresh and a shine of light.

There was a widening to the tunnel; Ammil and Lunette had waited for him there. Lunette was clinging to Ammil; both of them pale and shaking. Astra noticed sweat on Ammil’s brow. They had a quick embrace as Lunette crawled over to him, desperate for comfort. He wrapped an arm around her, the skirt of her dress now torn at her knees from being trod upon so much, and grasped Ammil’s shoulder. They shared a look as their sister buried her head into Astra’s neck.

The cellar doors were flung open, and other villagers started to crawl out. The noises of the raid on their village were close, but they weren’t in the thick of it anymore: the doors were at the base of the stone walls around the edge. Astra crawled out ahead of his siblings, scooping up his sister in his arms, and shifting her on his hip to help pull out Ammil.

Home. They had to get home, and warn mother and father.

They ran. Astra didn’t remember running for such a consistent time before, even though he was an athletic child.The adrenaline spurred them on, all three Verdant children running through the forest path that they normally strolled down. Astra was too distracted to notice that the scent of fire was getting stronger, and the birds in the forest were quiet. All he could do is run, toward his home, to the place he knew was safe, dragging his sister and brother behind him.

Nothing prepared him for the sight ahead of him, as he skidded to a halt.

Their family home - the cosy, small two-story building where he and his siblings had been born, was ablaze. Four men - burly, mean looking humans with rough leather armour, wielding swords - were at the front of their home.

He’d never seen his parents brandish weapons before. His mother raised her voice at him once, and that was weapon enough for him. To see his mother spin through the air, dagger in each hand, was almost too much for Astra to comprehend at this point. He just stood, holding Ammil and Lunette’s hands, staring as both their mother and father tried to defend their home.

The bandits noticed the children first, one of them starting the advance.

His mother noticed a second after, calling to them to run, but her yell was cut short as a sword was shunted through her back, the shockwave rippling down her form as the tip protruded from her chest. She was still a moment, then the light dimmed in her eyes as her legs buckled underneath her; her body pitching forward as the bandit behind her pulled out his sword.

Astra’s world exploded.

He couldn’t comprehend exactly what happened next. He could hear screams; his own, Ammil’s and Lunette’s. Their father nocked his bow and sent an arrow flying towards the bandits advancing on them, before the two he was already fighting closed in on him. Ammil pulled a slingshot from his waistband, grabbing rocks and launching them. Lunette was casting cantrips to blind their attackers. And Astra was hurling insults at them, trying to convince them to leave.

They grabbed Ammil first, lifting him up by his neck, hissing and snarling, before throwing him to the ground. Astra turned to Lunette, telling her to run, before turning face to face with the man who had run his mother through.

He had a cruel face: beady dark eyes, scraggly stubble across his chin and crooked, yellowed teeth. His skin was weathered, and deep lines were set on his forehead, around his eyes, and around his mouth, which was twisted into a sneer.

“Dirty fucking demons,” he spat, grabbing Astra roughly.

Astra didn’t quite understand what happened next. He felt pressure on the side of his chest, which turned sharp and throbbed. His lips curled up instinctively from the pain as he started to feel numb and lightheaded. He pulled for breath, but he couldn’t breathe. He tried to cling to the man, but the tiefling was thrown down, and Astra looked skyward, but couldn’t focus.

It was like when he was a boy and he’d gone too deep in the pond. The sky above didn’t look right through the water. He could hear someone calling his name - they had Lunette? Ammil entered his field of view, teeth broken and mouth bloody as he screamed but Astra couldn’t hear him. Things were moving - how was he moving? He swallowed and spluttered, coughing up wet. Was he drowning? How did he get in the pond? There was a funny metallic taste in his mouth.

He didn’t understand.

There was a brief flash of warmth on his side, and then...nothing.

*****

Astra’s head was pounding.

He didn’t open his eyes right away. He didn’t really know what time it was, but the air felt cool and there wasn’t anything bright behind his eyelids. He felt a soreness in his chest, but at least he could breathe now.

He could breathe?

His eyes flew open as he remembered. He remembered the village under attack. He remembered coming home to find his parents fighting off bandits. When they faltered, the bandits had turned their attention to him and his siblings.

Astra tried to sit up quickly, but there was weight on him and his chest ached terribly. He wrapped his hands around whatever was on him and shoved it off before rolling to the side, and lifting himself up gently, trying not to aggravate whatever wound he had on his side.

It was very quiet. It was dark, but there was enough light from the sky to allow his specialized eyes to see quite clearly.

He looked down at what was on him and gasped in horror, wincing as he scooted backwards and away from the body of his mother. He looked down on himself; he was coated in blood, unsure how much was his and how much was hers. His stomach clenched as he retched, dry heaving as there was nothing left in his body to expel.

He took a few minutes to right himself. He tried desperately to remember what happened, but all he could figure is that his mother’s last act before the light completely left her eyes, was to heal him enough to keep death at bay. She was proficient at that - she had healed all of them as children and was teaching Astra the magical means of healing, as well as bolstering mood through song.

It was enough to trick the bandits into thinking the light had left his eyes as well.

He tried to run a shaky hand through his hair, but it was matted, thick clods of dirt stuck to the blood from when he was dragged from the mouth of the forest and into their front yard proper. That’s where he was, sitting in the small, stone-fenced area at the front of their home, where their mother had trellised runner beans.

The home was burnt, the thatched roof completely gone, and windows blown out. It had been short but intense, and he could still smell the smoulder of it, even with the fire having nothing left to burn. Fire was greedy in that way, constantly looking for something to lick up, latch on to, and consume. The stone of the walls were charred and darkened.

He tried to stand, faltered, and fell. His legs were weak, so he crawled over to the stone fence, and with great effort, pulled himself up. He took a moment, panting, to try and take everything else in.

Mother. Father. Ammil. Lunette.

He had to find them.

It wasn’t difficult to find Father. He was where Astra had last seen him, though now he lay still, ash from the burnt roof covering him.

Ammil was close by, just on the other side of the fence. He was broken; he had obviously fought back with every fibre of his being. His nails were torn, leaving his fingers bloody. His face was swollen, eyes puffed shut, and also bloody. His kalimba was nearby, smashed. His clothes were ripped.

Astra knelt by him, stroking his hair. His beautiful, feisty, little brother, who would now never again take in a morning sunrise, or an evening sunset.

He didn’t want to find Lunette. He knew he had to, and he was filled with dread about it.

She was not far. Her body was face down, near the edge of the forest. She’d tried to run. The hems of her skirt were ragged and torn. He didn’t see any blood on her at all, and his trembling fingers brushed his lips in horror when he flipped her over. The edges of her eyes were dark where the blood vessels had burst, and her neck was many shades darker - they’d choked the light out of her.

He pulled her into his lap, her body flopping as he held her close to him, finally releasing all the terror and horror around him by the means of tears. He stroked her face; her cheeks were cool to the touch. He didn’t count the moments as he clung to her: his amazing, beautiful sister who had been so full of life. 

Her smile had lit up his heart every time; she would sit so still for all of five seconds while he braided her hair before she started to wiggle in excitement for the day. The way she could make bok-bok sounds just like the chickens did as she would chase them out of the gardens, or how she played with the new baby goats each year.

She was already so good on the pan flute.

He kissed her forehead one last time, before closing her eyes.

He stood, her small form now curling into him as he hoisted her up. He carried her to one of the trees in the garden, just to the side of the house, where they would rest in the shade of a hot summer’s day, Mother teaching them how to play while Father tended to animals or prepared their supper. This tree was a good place, a good memory, for them to rest forever.

Their mother’s pan flute was still around Lunette, miraculously unbroken. Astra swallowed before his fingers would work right, sliding it off her, and placing it nearby. He knew he couldn’t stay here anymore. Not with the stench of death here so new, not with these fresh memories.

As he went to fetch Ammil, he struggled with his thoughts. The words ‘dirty fucking demon’ played over and over in his head. Everything was so senseless - burning the village, killing the inhabitants. The barmaiden’s pinprick eyes would haunt him. Why had they done it? Was it for supplies, or for gold? Was it because it was a village with lots of tieflings?

Sometimes, the world is bigger than us, and that’s okay, his mother would have said to him, stroking tears off his cheeks. You couldn’t expect to take it all on your own. She would have smiled, called him her ‘sapling’, and hugged him close.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the bandit’s cruel face, or his mother with a sword protruding from her chest, or Lunette’s shining face, or Ammil holding his tail when he was nervous.

His side ached terribly as he laid Ammil down with Lunette. He had to stop and rest, panting from the pain, after laying down his parents beside them.

His lute was in the front yard, also unbroken save for a string. He could play without it. He knew how.

He sat with his back against the stone fence, plucking at the strings, humming a melody softly - his mother’s favourite lullaby. He couldn’t say the words. Not yet; he’d break down again, and while he didn’t have an issue with that, he was just so tired. He felt like his emotions were battered, bruised, and splayed out. His heart couldn’t take much more.

He’d have to go to Riven. He’d been there a few times with his family, and he knew how to get to the main forest road. He’d have to pack. He had some gold from what he’d earned earlier in the day. The bandits hadn’t rummaged through his pockets or the house; they’d just slaughtered, destroyed and left. He should be able to salvage a little food for the journey. He’d just have to figure out what to do when he got there…

These were thoughts for another day. The moon was high in the sky, and he was exhausted. He needed to sleep. It was an uneasy one, curled up in an old blanket in the cellar, which was untouched by the fire.

A few hours later, the sun rose again, like it always did. Verdant Astra did not have the same outlook today as he had the last time the sun had risen.

His resolve strengthened with every strike of the shovel tip to ground. He would never be the person to harm another. Never would he lift a sword, or bow, or weapon against any living creature. He would show the world that you could survive without senseless violence, without stealing a life unfairly. There wasn’t a need to be cruel in this world. He could be that beacon of kindness, and use his gifts to make this world a better place.

He would never do what was done to him.

It felt right, as the earth covered his family, under the tree that had brought them so much joy. He’d placed coins on their eyelids, save for Lunette. On hers, he placed wildflowers. The cellar had flower seeds, which he sprinkled over them. He said a few prayers.

He’d found a tattered robe, a pack, and a few other provisions in the cellar. He’d washed in the pond, and inspected the ugly scar across his side, between his ribs. It had barely knit together, but it was enough to keep his light from escaping that night, and he would wear it proudly in remembrance.

He braided his still-wet hair, adjusted his necklaces - one shell for himself and each of his siblings, and a disc for his parents - threw on his overcoat and clipped the cloak around his shoulders. He attached the lute to his pack, and placed inside the shattered remains of Ammil’s kalimba, carefully wrapped in cloth, and Lunette’s pan flute. A few supplies - mostly anything Astra could scrounge together for food, and his bedroll rounded out his pack.

The first thing he would purchase in Riven would be a journal, so he could write to Lunette and Ammil.

He didn’t need to forget his family to be reborn again. The world was sometimes bigger than he was, and sometimes it did things. Not good, not bad, but just things. His family hadn’t deserved what happened to them, and it would take him a while to reconcile that violence, but he could do what he could in this world to be better.

His tether to his life before - his idyllic childhood - was now severed. He could now wander Caldera, with only memories to bind part of him to this place. A place that was now a better memory than it was a reality.

He knew who he was when he started down that forest path, towards the main Riven road that cut through the trees to the south-west. He was Verdant Astra, the eldest of the Verdant children, and the last of his line. He could let himself be filled with wanderlust, like so many bards before him, and explore this world without worry.

The wind could decide where he would go; he would follow.


End file.
